After our voyage around the Mediterranean, our ship sailed north and docked in Southampton. It was a short drive to Stonehenge in a bus full of exhausted teenagers. We had spent the previous night up all night having a very tame but late party in our dormitory. No booze, and of course no drugs, but lots of giggling. We pulled off on the side of the road and walked along the pathway to the henge. Back in 1974, you could still walk in and around the giant stones. You would think that a bus full of teenagers wandering around would not make for a peaceful experience. In fact, a number of my compatriots chose to stay on the bus and so there were only a handful of us. I was just 13 when I was there, but I still remember the peace and solemnity of the place. The wind blew across the fields, just like you might hear on the Canadian prairie. There are a few places that I have been that have exuded a feeling of spirituality: Wenaskawin buffalo jump on the prairies, Sanjusangendo Temple in Kyoto, Lynn Canyon in Vancouver, Cathedral Grove on Vancouver Island, sitting in the Louvre before the Impressionist’s work that I studied in university and admired from before that, and, of course, Stonehenge. It is sad that vandals made it impossible for people to continue to be able to walk between the stones and feel the power of the place.